


One More Chance to Dream Again

by DaughterofElros



Series: Happy Hockey Days-- Holiday Vignettes [3]
Category: Hockey RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Holidays, M/M, change of heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 22:15:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterofElros/pseuds/DaughterofElros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of a collection of Yuletide moments around the league, all inspired by beloved holiday songs</p><p>Patrick and Jonny celebrate an early Christmas with the Sharps. Seeing the Wonder of Christmas through Maddy's eyes makes Kaner re-evaluate some life decisions.</p><p>Song Inspiration: Christmas Through Your Eyes by Gloria Estefan</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Chance to Dream Again

**Author's Note:**

> The Tazer and Kaner in this fic are not necessarily living in the same universe as those in the previous vignette. Interpret how you like though!

Patrick shifts the massive, brightly wrapped box in his arms, tucking it into to his hip in order to ring the doorbell with his elbow. It’s not that the box heavy, exactly, but it’s definitely unwieldy. The echoing series of melodious dings is followed by a shriek and the sounds of a mad scramble in the foyer.

 

“Me me me me!” a little voice squeals excitedly. The doorknob starts to turn as Abby Sharp’s exasperated voice calls out “Madelyn Grace, wait for your mother!” The door swings open a moment later to reveal Abby rolling her eyes and tucking a loose wave of hair back behind her ear as Maddy fusses the door along, with Shooter circling helpfully around her feet.

 

“We’re opening doors these days, so things stay locked all the time.” She explains apologetically over Maddy’s excited shrieks of “Uncle Kaner! Uncle Kaner! Uncle Kaner!” which only abate when she registers the massive gift in his arms. Her eyes grow huge beneath her shock of downy blonde hair.

 

“For me?” she asks, wonderment and anticipation burning in her eyes.

 

“Hmmm.” He says, pretending to check the tag. “Let me see…” he strings her along for about three seconds, because when you’re that young and presents are concerned, every second feels like an hour, so any longer would just be cruel. “To Miss Maddy Sharp, from Uncle Kaner. Looks like this one belongs to you! How about you show me where the tree is so we can put it down? 

 

“Okay!” Maddy trots off down the hall, impatiently beckoning him to follow. He complies, stopping only long enough to drop a brief kiss to Abby’s cheek in greeting as she shuts the door behind him.

 

Their arrival in the living room is announced by Maddy’s dramatic, “Look! Look! Look for me!” as she runs forward, crashing herself into her father’s knee and flinging herself enthusiastically into his lap, narrowly avoiding the tower of blocks they had obviously been in the process of assembling. Sharpy looks up and rolls his eyes. Patrick privately thinks that Abby’s eyeroll is infinitely more effective. Not that he’s going to inform Sharpy of that.

 

“Jesus Christ, Peekaboo,” The brunette complains. “You’re going to ruin all the effort that my wife and I are expending to make sure that our daughters grow up nice and normal and not spoiled.” Sharpy says, but he looks about as serious as he always does (which is to say: not at all).

 

“Whatever.” Patrick chirps back at him as he eases the box to the floor. “Why would you go and have these beautiful daughters if you didn’t want me to spoil them?” 

 

“Yes.” Sharpy responds dryly. “What other reason might my wife and I possibly have for bearing children.” Pat shrugs. It seems like perfectly sound logic to him.

 

“Don’t worry, man” he grins, swooping Maddy up in his arms and tossing her the way that makes he shriek with glee. “I may have the Uncle of the Year  prize locked up, but I hear you’re still in the running for Number 1 Dad.

 

“Not so fast, hotshot.” Sharpy counters. “Our esteemed captain is giving you a run for your money this year. Not only did he get here an hour early bearing an exceptional bottle of single malt that might actually be older than Saader, but he also managed to get Sadie to stop fussing- which is incredible because she’s been in a mood all day. And he changed a diaper. Not to mention the fact that we didn’t have to widen the doorways to fit the presents he brought into the house.”

 

As luck would have it, that’s the moment that Jonny walks into the room, Sadie tucked contentedly against his chest, anchored by the crook of his arm and the gentle pressure of his hand splayed across her back, his palm looking fucking massive in contrast to her tiny, delicate body. She’s obviously asleep, completely content in Jonny’s arms, and the sight makes Patrick’s heart pretty much drop out of his chest.

 

They look so…perfect, is the thing. Jonny isn’t the type to make stupid, nonsensical conversations with babies. Most people probably wouldn’t even let him near their kid, because he keeps the same intimidating focus and intensity with kids that he does with all things. But Patrick knows him well enough to see the way that his characteristic seriousness softens around the edges- how the solemn, measured tone of his voice as he’s talking to Sadie lulls her and sends her to sleep, how he has thoughtful, full-fledged conversations with babies, even though they’re too young to talk back. Seeing him with Sadie is just… it’s almost breathtaking- it actually makes it difficult for Patrick to breathe for a second, because it looks so incredibly right on Jonny, and all Patrick can do for a second is want, wishing for the things he can’t have. That they’d agreed they shouldn’t pursue.

 

It’s not like Patrick actually wants a kid. Not normally at least. He’s perfectly content to let Sharpy and Abby (not to mention Duncs, Kelly-Rae, Seabs, Dana, and all of the rest of the guys on the team who are dads) produce offspring for him to spoil. But seeing Jonny with Sadie, there’s a part of him that wishes that it was a possibility. Not like, biologically, or whatever. But him and Jonny together. Having a family. Having just each other, even. Maybe it’s stupid to want like that, but he can’t always help himself.

 

Especially when Jonny looks the way he does now- all of the muscle and bulk that he uses to shoot pucks and withstand savage hits turned gentle and sheltering around the youngest Sharp.

 

“Hey pretty girl,” he says softly, settling Maddy on his hip as he steps toward Sadie and Jonny, poking her tiny hand with his finger until she closes her fist around it. He marvels at how tiny her little fingernails are, how soft her skin is, how standing like this he can feel the warmth of Jonny’s body radiating against his wrist. Patrick keeps his eyes fixed firmly on that little hand because he knows that his feelings are too close to the surface right now- that if he looks up and meets Jonny’s eyes at this moment, he doesn’t stand a chance of maintaining the illusion that he’s not still totally fucking gone for him.

 

 

Fortunately distraction comes in the form of Sharpy, who begins lamenting about his girls abandoning him for other men to Shooter, who has come to rest his head forlornly on Sharpy’s knee, sulking at being left out of the proceedings for even a moment.

 

“Wait until they’re teenagers.” Abby warns, patting him on the head as she floats in from the kitchen to offer everyone coffee. Sharpy scowls, thoroughly unimpressed with the idea.

 

“I’d love some coffee actually.” Jonny says politely, sounding like he actually has manners. Which no, they all know better. Abby especially since she’s married to a man who’s both a Canadian and a hockey player, so she knows what’s up. Not all Canadians are naturally polite.

 

“Yeah. But instead of creamer, Jonny’d like it if you could pour a little protein shake in there for him.” Sharpy interjects and Kaner has to extricate his hand from Sadie’s grasp in order to give him a fist bump.

 

Jonny appears nonplussed. “The vanilla is best, if you’ve got it,” he says, and only the tiny quirk of his lips belies that he’s joking. It’s a dangerous game he’s playing though- there’s at least a fifty percent chance that Abby will hand him a cup full of coffee and protein powder just to call them all on their bullshit. It’s part of why Patrick loves hanging out with the Sharps. He never feels like a guest in their house- he’s family.

 

He keeps feeling that way all through the lunch that Abby prepared, at which Maddy informs him that his assigned seat is next to her and he sees no reason to argue. Though the fact that it puts him across from Jonny is both a blessing and a curse. He can’t stop looking at Jonny, catching glimpses of him laughing and smiling that leave Patrick with a funny little ache in his chest. He doesn’t dwell on it much because he’s too distracted watching Maddy bounce in her seat, trying to be patient since she’s been told that she has to wait for the adults to finish eating before she can open the presents that her uncles brought.

 

He remembers life being like that, the feeling that made Christmas the most magical time of the year, with  the immense possibility of presents made all the more incredible by the excruciating wait to open them- a wait that was only made bearable by the presence of family and laughter and foods that only came around at Christmas. Life was simpler then, he thinks, and resists stealing a sidelong glance at Jonny.

 

Finally, they take pity on Maddy and begin clearing the table. She dances at the doorway of the kitchen, tugging on the hem of her dress until Abby gives her permission to go into the living room; at which point she promptly tugs on first his leg and then Jonny’s, urging them to follow her. Sharpy trails behind, and amused grin on his face and Sadie in his arms, sucking contentedly on her pacifier.

 

It’s Abby who mans the camera during the enthusiastic storm of ripping paper that follows (though Patrick gets to snap a few pictures on his phone. It takes a long time  for tiny hands to rip all that paper, even with a little help every now and then, but the expression of joy on Maddy’s face is totally worth it as she lugs the massive stuffed lion Patrick bought her out of its box and promptly class her arms arounds its furry neck in a delighted hug.

 

As it turns out, Jonny’s present might have had a smaller box, but Patrick is so vindicated, because the gigantic pink princess tent (complete with like, roll up door flaps) is going to take up way more space than the lion does. Actually, there’s room for both Maddy and the lion to fit in the tent once its set up (which they all have to help with, naturally. Maddy watches them from the confines of the lion box which she has crawled into, having an unintelligible conversation with her new pet the whole time.)

 

When the tent is finished, both Maddy and the lion disappear inside as predicted, though she emerges long enough when Abby prompts her with “What do we say to Uncle Kaner and Uncle Jonny?” to dart over to them, hug them and say “Love you!” before crawling back into her tent where, Patrick can only guess by the growling noise she’s making and the way she tosses her hair like a mane, she is currently Queen of the Lions.

 

“Close enough.” Jonny says with a grin. Patrick is stuck on it though. It’s incredible how Maddy can just… put herself out there like that- say that she loves someone and mean it, and not worry about anything else. He wonders when he himself lost that ability to shades of self-doubt and wariness of the cruel nature of the world. He kind of wishes that he had it back. Because maybe if he were able to be half as honest about his feelings as Sharpy’s two year old daughter is, he might not be so goddamn miserable all the time. He could stand to learn a thing or two from Maddy. So could Jonny. Not that he’d ever admit it. 

 

He realizes that while he’s been letting his mind wander, Jonny has left the room. He catches sight of him down the hallway, ducking into the bathroom. Why the fuck not? he thinks. Not like this hasn’t been on his mind for forever anyway. Sharpy and Abby are distracted by their kids at the moment, so before he can give himself a chance to think better of the plan, he follows Jonny down the hall.

 

And okay, if he were actually thinking this through, he wouldn’t have chosen to do this outside the Sharp’s guest bathroom. But careful planning hasn’t exactly been working for them this far, so fuck it, right? Even if it might be awkward. He hears the sink turn on behind the door, can hear Jonny washing his hands. Oh yeah, this is going to be awkward. But he’s not backing down now.

 

The door opens, and Jonny looks startled for a second, but recovers quickly.

 

“Hey.” He says, swiping his hands across his thighs to finish drying them as he nods his head toward the bathroom door. “All yours.”

 

Which… yeah, that would be the logical reason for Patrick to be standing outside the bathroom door. And Jonny’s turning to leave, the door is closing on Patrick’s chance to say something, so he just… dives in.

 

“I’m a coward.” He blurts without preamble, causing Jonny to stop short. “But not just me. You’re a coward to. We’re both cowards.” Jonny’s expression shifts from confused to wary, like he’s suddenly been hauled aboard Patrick’s runaway train of thought.

 

“Patrick…”

 

“No, seriously.  Maddy is more emotionally honest than either of us. Hell, so is Sadie- and she can’t even speak. At least when she’s not happy, she lets everyone know.”

 

“We agreed that the most practical thing was not to go there.” Jonny’s patented glare is out in full force now- though it would probably be more effective if Patrick hadn’t been getting either turned on by or totally immune to his litany of intense expressions for going on seven years now.

 

“Fine. So we’re practical cowards.” Patrick amends. Jonny huffs out a sigh, folding his arms over his chest crossly. “Come on, Jonny,”Patrick persists. You can’t seriously tell me that this is working. Pretending that we don’t catch each other looking, pretending that we’re just bros, that we don’t notice every time we touch even accidentally.” He brings his hand up to rest on Jonny’s wrist- doesn’t push it any further, but then, he doesn’t have to. He can feel the tension radiating through Jonny’s body already.

 

“Why are we still doing this?” Patrick asks softly. “We’re both miserable. At least, I know I am.”

 

“What are you asking for, then?” Jonny asks, his voice tight and face blank.

 

“I don’t know. You, I guess. Us. To have a chance. I’m not stupid. I don’t want press and reporters and parades. I’m not looking to rush into something and shout it from the rooftops. But I want to look at you and not have to look away because I can’t keep up the illusion that you don’t matter to me so goddamn much. I don’t want to date girls that I just keep leading on, because my heart is still in the same place it’s been for what’s basically forever now. I don’t want to keep pretending that I don’t want you, that you aren’t the person in my head practically all the time. I don’t want to be closer to 30 than I am to 20 and still be lonely because I didn’t have the balls to say something. And I want to do this.”

 

He has to get up on his tiptoes to reach, to slot his mouth to Jonny’s, because Jonny isn’t exactly helping him out here. Not at first at least. It’s kind of weird too, because Patrick can count on one hand the number of times they’ve done this when they didn’t have their hands on each other’s dicks in a mutual agreement not to talk about it tomorrow. And if he takes away the times when they were sober, the number lowers even further.

 

But he’s wanted this for so fucking long. It takes a moment, but Jonny’s apparently wanted this too because Patrick can feel him start to melt into it, lips parting to let Patrick in, his  arms dropping to Patrick’s hips, pulling him closer. Jonny is a solid wall of muscle, physically intimidating in a way that most of the girls Patrick’s been picking up just aren’t, and it’s kind of a shock to realize how much he actually likes being the shorter one here, able to lean in to Jonny’s superior height. For a moment, his entire world is centered on the slide of Jonny’s lips, the scent of the cologne he’s wearing and the way it makes his brain short circuit just a little, and softness of Jonny’s sweater under his palm. He doesn’t want it to end, and makes a pretty embarrassing noise of protest as it does.

 

 

“Okay.” Jonny breathes. His eyes are closed and his hands lingers on Patrick hip like he doesn’t want to let go just yet.

 

“Okay?”

 

Jonny nods. “Yeah. Let’s… we should…” he trails off, looking a little dazed. “You’re flying home today?” 

 

“Yeah.” Patrick confirms. “I have to be at O’Hare in like, two hours.”

 

“I’m supposed to stop by Sadder’s to give him a ride to the airport in like, half an hour.”

 

“So you kind of have to leave like now, huh?” Patrick asks. Disappointment wells up inside him. He kind of always has shitty timing.

 

“Like five minutes ago.” Jonny agrees. “But when you get back to Chicago, call me. I’ll pick you up from the airport, and we can… figure this out.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really.”

 

“What makes you think I’m not getting back before you?” Patrick challenges, since he’s basically incapable of letting anything go when he should. Jonny gives him a look that says oh please.

 

“Like I don’t know that you’re getting the latest flight back possible so you can spend every extra second with your family? And like you don’t know that to my mother’s dismay, I always try to get an afternoon flight so that I’m around if any of the guys need something.”

 

“Like a ride back from the airport?” Patrick jokes.

 

“Like anything.” Jonny reiterates. From the way his voice drops an octave and gets incredibly suggestive, Patrick’s pretty sure they’re not talking about favors for teammates anymore. And holy hell if Jonny’s voice in that register doesn’t do things for him. 

 

“Fuck.” He whispers in awe.

 

“That’s the general idea.” Jonny outright smirks, and for one wild second Patrick contemplates missing his flight so he can take Jonny up on anything and everything he’s offering. Only his shock at Jonathan Toews successfully achieving anything akin to innuendo and the realization that Jonny has less time to hang around in Chicago than he does prevents him from suggesting that they peace out on Sharpy and Abby and get back to either of their apartments right the fuck now. That, and the fact that Jonny leans down to kiss him again, and for a pro athlete, Patrick’s having a little bit of a hard time catching his breath.

 

“I’ve got to go.” Jonny apologizes. “But I’m really glad you said something. I thought… maybe it was just me.”

 

“It’s not.” Patrick promises fervently.

 

“I’m really, really glad it’s not. I’ll see you after Christmas.” Jonny says, and that’s just as much a promise. He starts to leave but then turns back, hauling Patrick into one fierce, final kiss that leaves Patrick’s lips buzzing.

 

“I guess there’s something to be said for Christmas miracles.” Patrick murmurs, watching Jonny disappear back into the living room. For the first time in far too long, he feels like he’s learned how to believe in someone again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_"Christmas Through Your Eyes"_ **

_Till I had you I didn't know_

_That I was missing out_

_Had to grow up and see the world_

_Through different shades of doubt_

_Give me one more chance to dream again_

_One more chance to feel again_

_Through your young heart_

_If only for one day help me try_

_I wanna see Christmas through your eyes_

_I want everything to be_

_The way it used to be_

_Back to being a child again_

_Thinking the world was mine_

_I wanna see Christmas_

_Christmas through your eyes_

_I see the rain, you see the rainbow_

_Hiding in the clouds_

_Never afraid to let your love show_

_Won't you show me how_

_Wanna learn how to believe again_

_Find the innocence in me again_

_Through your young heart_

_Help me find a way, help me try_

_I wanna see Christmas;_

_I wanna see Christmas_

_I wanna see Christmas through your eyes_

**Author's Note:**

> This work was created prior to August, 2015. While I no longer produce new content featuring Patrick Kane, all works I have created remain in the Archive.


End file.
